He glanced at Maury and remembered the time they had toilet-papered Mr. Stevenson's house. The guy had been their science teacher at the time and had given them an F for talking during a test. Toilet-papering his house seemed like a good idea at the time until they were caught. They had detention after school for two weeks and had to clean up all the toilet paper, even the paper that had clung to the top branches of the trees where they'd thrown them. That had been a bitch.
Clark, he'd helped him pass math his senior year so he would graduate. Those were long, late nights of tutoring.
T.C., he'd stood up for him in grade school when the kids made fun of his red hair. Punched a few noses for the dude, too.
There were a lot of other memories with these guys, good memories, and not so good, but somehow they'd always remained friends. He licked his lips that had suddenly felt dry. It was now or never for him to put things right and apologize.
"I'm sorry for being such an asshole," he said and noticed Clark shifted his stance uncomfortably. Bellamy sighed in relief, though. Saying sorry hadn't been as difficult to voice as he thought it would be. Actually, it felt good until he realized the guys were staring at him with odd expressions on their faces. Maybe it was too late to say sorry. Maybe he'd done so much crap to them, they didn't care anymore. When silence seemed like a steady companion, he thought it best to bail. "Well then," he said and swallowed the lump lodged in his throat, threatening to choke him. He backed away. "I guess I'll see you in the morning." He turned and hurried toward the door, but before he could reach it, the guys surrounded him.
They were all talking at once, but he only could make out what Clark said, since he'd jumped on his back and ground his knuckles into his hair, something he used to do when they were in school as a form of a greeting. Bugged the heck out of him. "Where do you think you're going?" Clark jumped away and socked him in the arm. That used to annoy him too, but right now, he needed this.
"We were heading to the pool," T.C. said. "There are some good looking chicks staying here at the hotel, not that you've noticed, Bellamy, my man." He nudged him.
Maury agreed. "He's been preoccupied – not that I've noticed any good-looking chicks either," he added quickly. "So don't go telling Sue Anne anything different." Sue Anne and Maury had been dating for a year. Seemed serious.
Leon looked at Bellamy and shrugged. "It would be like old times. Just the guys."
"I'd like that," he said and meant it.
Leon hung back as the others filed out of the room. "You and Evie okay?" he asked, knowing he'd raced out of here earlier to find her. Just add her to the list of people he'd offended.
Evie had wanted him not to take too long, but if he told her he needed to spend time with his boys, she'd be cool with it. "She's way too forgiving sometimes," he told Leon in all honesty.
"Maybe she likes you," Leon gave him a sideways grin.
"Maybe." He smiled too.
"Maybe you like her too," Leon hinted. "You're different with her."
"Not today."
Leon laughed. "I didn't say you were perfect. Old habits tend to creep up on all of us."
Didn't he know it?
"Come on," Leon looped an arm around Bellamy and dragged him from the room. "Ask Evie to join us if you want to."
He did ask her, but she opted to stay in the room. "Go, have fun," she told him.
For the first time in a long time, he felt at ease, as if his friendship with the guys hadn't been strained as it had been in the past year.
T.C. flirted shamelessly with some college girls. Clark convinced the young women to join them in the hot tub. A tall blonde, fake tan, big boobs, had looked Bellamy's way. In the past, he would have gone for her. Would have ordered drinks, most likely would have asked her back to his room.
"Tempted?" Maury asked him.
He reached for his towel. "Not in the least. I think I'll head back upstairs," he told Maury and Leon.
"I'd head upstairs, too if I had a woman like Evie waiting for me," Leon said. "See you in the morning."
He nodded and headed inside. He was in the elevator when he spotted Bryce heading over and he casually reached for the button on the panel and punched it continuously. "Close, close," he kept saying under his breath.
"Hold the doors," Bryce called to him.
He cursed under his breath. Not exactly the person he wanted to share close quarters with, especially since his buzz from earlier was gone and replaced with a headache that the pills he downed earlier hadn't touched. But what could he do? He held the doors. Bryce gave him a once over before leaning against the far wall to stare at him with his arms folded across his chest. The doors closed and the elevator hummed as it moved upward.
"Have a nice swim?" Bryce asked. Sure his voice sounded casual, but he knew better.
"Just sat by the pool and talked with the guys." Maybe he stressed, the guys, a little too loudly. Bryce snorted as if he didn't believe him.
"Where's Evie?"
"In her room. She was tired and wanted to stay in tonight." And why did he find the need to explain this? Perhaps it was the way Bryce stared at him as if he were a wee bug he'd like to squash.
"Evie is going to be leaving soon," Bryce announced.
As if he didn't already know this. Days. That's all he had left with her.
"She'll go back to her old life."
"Uh huh," he said, not knowing where Bryce was going with this.
Bryce uncrossed his arms and came forward so fast that Bellamy lifted his hands on reflex, believing the guy intended to slug him, but he only leaned over and hit the button to stop the elevator's progress.
Bellamy slowly lowered his arms and arched a brow.
"She's not one of your groupies," Bryce said. "She has a profession, a good one, and she's going back to school to become a doctor. She's not one of your women either, who believes sighs and moans will look good on a resume. So don't think she'll be following you from state to state, hoping for a hook up."
"Jesus, Bryce, I know that."
"Do you? Do you really? I've been with the band for five years. I see how you operate. Just where do you think you and Evie are going with this–whatever this is?" He could hear the frustration in Bryce's voice and the worry lines creasing his forehead were beginning to look like they might be permanent.
He sighed and scratched his head. "Honestly, I don't know." He wanted more time with her but knew he didn't have it. "I really like her, man."
"So help me," he clenched his fists then unclenched them again as he seemed to gain control of his emotions, "if you hurt my sister, I won't hesitate to kick your ass," Bryce warned him.
"I don't intend to," he said and swallowed hard. "I haven't," he added.
"Yeah, but you will," Bryce seemed sure of it. He pushed the button and the elevator kicked into gear. "You end it." Bryce met his gaze. "When she has to leave, you do it right. Let her down easy. Don't say you'll call, 'cause we both know that you won't. What I'm trying to say is: don't be a dick about it."
What if she was the one to say goodbye to him? Why did everyone assume his heart was made of granite and it couldn't be broken?
Chapter Twenty-One
Not Enough Time
The last week had been busy for the band. Evie barely saw Bellamy until the evening when he would crawl into bed with her. Believe it or not, in bed they talked a lot those last few days. He told her about his day and had her laughing about some of the interview questions he'd been asked.
"Do you like legs or breasts?" he recapped the question the host from the View Tonight show asked. "I thought she was talking about chicken. I told her I liked legs because using my hands and ripping the flesh off was manlier than picking off meat from a breast."
"You didn't," she laughed so hard her stomach hurt.
"I did. You know I'm usually on board with the sex talk. Heck, sex is on my mind pretty much all day." He wagged his eyebrows at her. "But I was hyped to be on the show. Thought the woman cla
ssy in her smart suit, but I guess she wanted the smut like everyone else. But I tell you; you should have seen the horrified expression she gave me after I answered. Then Leon elbowed me and it finally sunk in what she'd really asked me. I think she believes I'm a cannibal. Clark couldn't stop laughing."
"I can see the headlines now, 'Cannibal Heathens'."
"Oh yeah," he said and pretended to want to gobble her up while tickling her too.
"Stop," she said between giggles. He did, but she went after him. He was ticklish too. Wonder if the tabloids knew that about him.
"So, Mr. Lovel," she asked when he had her pinned beneath him to stop her torture of tickling him. They were both breathing heavily, his face inches from hers. "I'd like to know, are you a leg," she wrapped hers around his waist, pulling him closer, "or a breast man?"
"With you, I can't decide, but I'm willing to keep trying to figure it out."
"You always know what to say, don't you?" she said as he lowered his mouth to hers.
Unfortunately, all good things do come to an end, eventually whether you want them to or not.
The day had arrived. She was going home. Bellamy drove with her to JFK airport, insisting he'd pay for the limo when Sonya thought it ridiculous to spend the money.
"I'm doing it," he finally told his manager point blank. "Deduct it from my pay. I have plenty of time before rehearsal starts, so stop giving me shit."
Sonya seemed taken aback at his outburst, making Evie think he never asked to drive any of the other women he dated to the airport. Despite her heavy heart at having to leave him, her spirits soared with shameless delight that he might just miss having her around, and cared enough to see her off so they could have one last goodbye.
Sonya finally agreed, knowing she wouldn't win this fight, and Evie was sure she would have many other battles with Bellamy. Some she'd have to just let go, and other battles she knew without a doubt the victor would be Sonya.
Her brother had finally warmed up to Bellamy and her being together, but maybe it had only been wishful thinking on her part. Perhaps, he was just glad she was leaving and wouldn't be able to see Bellamy anymore. Whatever the reason, she appreciated the truce between them. After all, he would be staying on with the band. He couldn't very well cause friction with the lead singer if he wanted to continue being their cameraman.
At the airport, Bellamy stayed with her as she waited for her flight to be called. She'd forgotten that was not an issue in 1997, and security was little more relaxed back then. They stood near the window, where they could see the planes land and take off. "You know you don't have to stay," she offered, not wanting to take up any more of his time if he wanted to go.
"I know," he said. "I want to be here." He played with her necklace, rubbing it between his forefinger and thumb. "Why do you wear this? I've been meaning to ask you, but then other things always distracted me." His eyes met hers with meaning and she smiled.
"It's the archangel Michael who battled the demon and won. My grandmother gave it to me as a gift when I graduated from nursing school. I think of him when something is difficult for me. Defeating demons. They come in every shape and form." She knew his, even though he had only given her a glimpse of what he battled. "We all have them," she said and hoped he realized he wasn't alone.
He let the medal fall against her skin and then tapped it. "I like that. Your own personal kickass angel."
She chuckled. "Something like that."
Over the intercom, she heard her flight being called. "I have to go."
His blue eyes appeared vibrant. She'd never seen them so blue. Then she realized the reason. He was holding back tears as he tried not to let her see, but then he swallowed hard and reached for her hand.
"I didn't expect it to be like this. It wasn't supposed to happen like this," he said.
"What wasn't?"
He met her gaze then and gave her a half smile. "I've fallen for you, Emerson Violet Reid."
She'd fallen for him too. "Love is always unexpected," she murmured.
"And damn inconvenient," he added harshly but smiled, a sad smile.
She wanted to say more. So much more, but there wasn't enough time. She realized there never would be. She was about to turn away but then had a thought. She reached around her neck and removed the necklace. "I want you to have it." She said and placed it in his hands. "When you need to fight your demons." She kissed his cheek which was rough and in need of a shave. "I'm glad we became friends."
He took hold of her arm when she was about to go. "We're more than friends, Emerson."
No one called her by her given name. Only him. She liked the way it sounded when he said it. "More than friends," she agreed. "When you've done your solo album, after you've starred in a movie or two... When you've fought your demons… I hope you'll come find me." She turned away and didn't look back. She couldn't. It would be too painful.
"How will I find you?" he called to her. "I have your number, but what if you change it? What if you move?"
"My brother," she said and didn't know if Bryce would tell him or not. "Or the World Wide Web," she added.
"The Web it is," she heard him say with a tinge of humor. He was probably thinking along the same lines as she was about her brother.
She handed over her ticket then entered the loading dock. "Come find me," she murmured more like a prayer. She could feel the pull of the future, stronger with every step she took to board the plane. It wouldn't be long now.
She sat in her seat and closed her eyes. As the plane took off, her essence, her soul, whatever it was that time travel tore away and spun into the dark abyss at a dizzying speed. She was going home.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Everything
The Winston Hotel on September 22, 1997
Despite his cocktail of pills and alcohol indulgence, he sang on key and remembered the words to all the songs. Another concert would go down in history as a success. Bellamy attended the after party with Leon and Maury, not wanting to be alone tonight. He was still flying high from what he took before the concert, but someone from the lighting crew, George... something or other, the name escaped him for the moment, had given him a little pick-me-up.
"It'll be the best high, guaranteed," George told him.
He wanted that high, needed it. He'd been spiraling downward and didn't want to crash. Not tonight of all nights, he couldn't hit the bottom. If he did, he wouldn't be able to pick himself up. Best high, George had told him. Felt like he was floating in between dimensions, like some kind of Science Fiction adventure where colors and sounds came at him as if they were live spectral beings. He stumbled into his room, not even sure how he arrived back at the hotel. Maybe someone had thrown him into a cab. He couldn't have walked back in his condition.
Once in his room, the silence proved deafening. Funny, how silence could be louder between his ears than the music played live on stage. Louder than when he cranked the music up in his car. "Loud, so loud," he murmured. He covered his ears but it didn't help the roar of silence.
He stumbled over to his suitcase and took out the bag and searched blurry-eyed for the prescription drugs the shrink had given him. He needed to sleep. He needed his brain to rest and stop thinking. Practice was at ten tomorrow before they hit the road again for the next venue. They'd done ten concerts so far out of twenty-eight scheduled. His throat hurt and he worried he wouldn't be able to belt out the words to the songs. He had nightmares about it where he couldn't sing and his voice croaked like a frog and everyone pointed at him and laughed.
He lifted the bottle and attempted to open the lid, but he couldn't seem to figure out the combination of press and turn. Frustrated, he threw the bottle against the wall with a curse. He went over to the refrigerator and found something better. He opened three of the sample bottles of liquor, not caring what they were. Just needed something to help him keep the shadows at bay.
"To you, Dad," he said as he downed the third. It was the anniversary of his father
's death. He'd been dwelling on it all day and no matter how hard he tried to block it from his thoughts, he couldn't. He missed the old guy. He leaned on the small refrigerator and held his head. He reached for another bottle as he remembered something Evie had said to him.
Alcohol and drugs dull the pain, but it also steals any chance for you to fully live.
Maybe he didn't want to live. He was so tired...so very tired and his head ached. If only the thoughts would stop. He wanted to call his father. Kept seeing his face even though he knew the old guy wasn't around anymore. His father had kept him grounded. He was a good listener, but he was gone, but still he kept expecting him to call, and he kept reaching for the phone to call him.
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